


Clean Showers

by Ailette



Series: Prussian Blue [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Domestic, Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-07
Updated: 2009-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-05 05:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6691462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/pseuds/Ailette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since moving in with Lester, Connor has a whole new range of problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean Showers

Connor quietly hummed to himself as he stepped out of the luxuriously big shower. Snatching the towel from the nearest rail, he took the time to take a good look around the bathroom once more while drying himself up. He’d suspected Lester’s flat (even if it was just for the week, as he kept on saying) wouldn’t exactly be shabby, but this? The man had to get paid a load of money to maintain a flat like this in the city and a house somewhere in Ealing. 

Running a hand through his wet hair, he took a look in the mirror. Lester didn’t have a hairdryer in the house. Shrugging, he enjoyed the built-in radio instead. He wouldn’t be able to hear that if he used the hairdryer, now would he? Grinning, he wrapped the snow-white towel around his hips in one fluid motion and made a grab for one of the smaller light blue towels from the rack for his hair. He had barely bent over to get one when the door was flung open behind him. With a yelp, he swirled back around, both hands immediately flying down to hold his towel in place. Somehow it suddenly felt a lot smaller.

“Lester!”

Lester stood there, the left eyebrow up in what seemed to be its constant position when Connor was around. “Who did you expect?” he asked dryly before he focused his attention on the shower cubicle. 

Connor hadn’t closed the door yet, so a small puddle of water had built just beneath it. Lester turned back to him with a glare. The man had absolutely no right to look this threatening with his braces loosely hanging around his hips, his tie still unfastened and squinting in a way that suggested no coffee in his system yet.   
  
“Didn’t I tell you to clean up the shower walls after you’re done?” He didn’t even give Connor a chance to reply. Probably because Connor wouldn’t have been able to come up with anything useful at the moment anyway; he hadn’t the last two times they had this discussion. “There are water droplets everywhere. Do you know how fast the silicone can start moulding if you leave it like this? And the tiles. They are Prussian blue only as long as there is no limescale on them! Not to mention the ceiling. How on earth do you even manage to splash water up there? No, don’t answer that. It’s a rhetorical question. There is a wiper right there to swab the tiles down. And look at that, right next to it? That’s a cloth. You can use it to wipe the water tap. Amazing technology, I know.”

Connor basically knew that whatever he would say next would get him in trouble. He should choose his words very, very carefully. Possibly mention how tastefully decorated the flat was (which wasn’t even a lie) and how much he appreciated being allowed to stay here. But either because of the sight of his fuming boss in front of him or due to the fact that he was practically naked ( _with his boss in front of him for God’s sake_ ), his brain desperately latched onto the first thing that came to his mind.

“Prussian blue?” He was screwed.

Lester inhaled deeply. Connor mistakenly believed it to be a motion Lester used to forcibly calm himself. “Now, you listen to me,” Lester barked out instead, index finger raised and wagging under Connor’s nose as he took a step forward. “I allow you to stay here, against my better judgement.” He took one step closer and Connor immediately took one back. “I even take you to work with me.” Another step. “And all I ask from you in return are a few reasonable things.” Connor nearly fell over the laundry basket before his flailing hands found purchase on the wall behind him. “One; don’t tell _anyone_ about these arrangements.” His bare back was now pressed fully against the cold tiles. “Two; stick to the rules.” Lester’s finger had switched to stabbing Connor in the chest to punctuate each word. “Three; no talking about sci-fi in any form.” Connor felt his skin flushing all over. “Four; clean up after yourself.” He briefly pressed his eyes shut, wishing fervently for his body to not react to the proximity of his boss. Which was harder than one might imagine, since Lester’s idea of personal space when he was either angry or not fully awake consisted of roughly five centimetres. 

“Do you understand that?” Lester was practically breathing his words directly into Connor’s face.

Willing his voice to come out steady and unsuspicious, Connor inclined his head forward in a minimalist gesture. If he came any closer to the other man he would probably suffer a nervous breakdown right then and there. On top of that, he couldn’t stand the thought of looking down. He really hoped Lester had no intention to do so either. “Yes.”

It was incredible how one word could sound so shaky and hoarse. If Lester noticed, he for once chose not to comment on it; probably satisfied with his intimidation as it was. “Very good.”

He took the first step back, leaving Connor to take his first breath of air as he turned on his heel. All could have been well if his eyes hadn’t swept over the younger man’s form in one rather unconscious motion. As it was, he halted before his second foot connected with the ground again. 

Connor shut his eyes and prayed that the wall would just swallow him up. He really, really didn’t need this; Lester knowing. He hadn’t known himself until two days ago; otherwise he would probably have never followed Lester’s hesitant suggestion to live with him for the duration. He’d simply always thought of Lester as that stuck-up arsehole who tried to make their lives more complicated and discredited the Professor at every chance he got. And while the invitation had been a nice gesture in itself, Connor had only realised that there was actually a person with a life, friends, hobbies and family behind his boss when he’d stepped through the flat’s door. It wasn't just the framed photos of his children, him holding enormously big fish with different friends, the blinding grin he wore in the one with his poker buddies or that little one above the writing where he was still a child himself surrounded by his siblings and parents. Rather, it was the way the flat was decorated. It had obviously not been done by a professional, there was too much old furniture mixed with the up-to-date stuff. Still, it was very tasteful, with a couple of small potted plants arranged on the windowsills, little souvenirs on every surface and an old porcelain set behind glass cupboards in the kitchen; details with a past. 

The whole place felt lived in and warm, welcoming in a way Connor had never expected. The first morning he’d woken up and lumbered into the hallway he’d nearly ran into his boss without actually recognising him immediately. His hair was unkempt and he was wearing silky dark red pyjamas, only his drowsy glare reminding Connor of who he was. Sometime between that moment and the time Lester told him to put his silly Oyster card away and follow him to the garage, he’d completely fallen for the older man. Even at work, his snarky remarks suddenly felt a lot more friendly and personal. 

But he’d barely just come to terms with his attraction himself; he wouldn’t survive it if – when – Lester knew now. He doubted that the man would actually hit him (though he certainly could), but what about the anomaly project? He could lose his job over this. His wonderful, unique beloved job with the team he’d come to see as family. And he wouldn’t see Lester again. He would be kicked out on the streets with nothing but the too small white towel and his erection. Hell, maybe he would even get arrested. He’d spent three hours in a cell once. He never wanted to go back to it.

As he opened his eyes again, he found Lester still standing there, his gaze very clearly focused on Connor’s crotch and the obvious tent that had formed there. He could literally feel his blush spread all the way down to his chest, his ears burning with shame. Any moment now it would come, the order to get the hell out of here and immediately afterwards to never show up at the ARC again. 

Finally Lester’s eyes shot up to meet Connor’s. He seemed to study the younger man for a good while before he tilted his head, apparently having formed a view on things. 

“Interesting,” he stated and Connor stared at him. The edge of Lester’s lip quirked up in a lopsided smirk and he walked out of the bathroom with his confident trademark strides.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Connor sank to the floor, suddenly glad for the wall’s support as his legs had lost all strength. 

He was so bloody screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> (Originally posted at http://ailette.livejournal.com/40949.html)  
> Beta: fififolle


End file.
